Though the sun filtered though the high clerestory windows in piercing shafts of white light, and the wind catchers carried a hefty spring breeze that stirred ancient sand and spirits a like, the royal chambers were frozen still as the palace itself passed midday in repose. Even the followers that stood as a silent sentry outside the door ceased their idle susurrations, succumbing to the expectant silence.
The only sound to be heard was the occasional buzz of flies accompanied by the gentle rustling of sheets of papyrus. Yuugi sat with his legs crossed at a low wooden table, surrounded by scrolls and clay tablets alike. After more than a year in the service of the pharaoh, he was certainly no scribe, had barely a rudimentary understanding of the elegant cursive script that threatened to bury him in daylight and haunt his dreams every night, but he had learned to recognize enough that he could at least make some sense of the chaotic deluge.
He sat with his back to the dias that held the royal couch, where the pharaoh himself lay in the embrace of his gods, and facing the door from where the living might disturb his dreams. Most days he had to square off against Set, convinced of the precedence of one project or another but they both knew Yuugi's duties extended beyond that of simple errands. For an hour or so a day, Egypt existed in stasis and he sought to make the most of of her timeless quality.
First, Atem would want to read the reports of the divisions of Amun and Horus out on campaign. Then came the recordings of the priests regarding the state of the precious Nile. These would be turned over to the overseers of the treasury to calculate the annual profits to be gained from taxes. In fact, Yuugi had half a mind to deliver them himself. A few letters from merchants and diplomats followed. Finally there were the petty messages delivered from within the palace. These fell within the domain of the Great Royal Wife and the young steward would surely find himself facing the impervious gaze of Asetnefret, as it would be his job to unload that responsibility as well. Yuugi was less keen on that task.
For now, it was enough to stack the writings, one on top of another, side by side, rigid and organized. The little table occupied a small space within the structured stability he had come to expect of his new home. The same structure that dictated the pharaoh oversee the entire contents of that table. In practice, he would not have to do much but by now Yuugi understood implicitly that those scribblings housed powerful spells that would allow Atem to permeate the wide state with his tendrils of influence.
After smoothing his pleated linen kilt, Yuugi leaned back, his finger rolling over the fine layer of sand that seemed to plaster every surface of this land. The rest of the room was in order; he would return the messages to the pharaoh's desk later. Somewhere high above, just outside the west facing windows, a large bird fluttered past, disturbing the measured patterns the light cast on the polished lapis tiles.
The steward cast a backward glance at his royal charge. Atem always slept on his left and never slept very deeply. His head laid gently against the gold plated headrest with one arm tucked beneath it, the other wrapped around his midsection as if wanting for something.
He cut an imagine of a living god stripped of the regal trappings, silent and cut from stone save for the quiet stirring of his sheet as it hung half uncovered and brushing the floor. Fixed in a moment that crept across the bright white sky and threatened spill over over like and ominous toll at any second. What Yuugi would have given to prolong it, if only to have more time indulge in appreciation.
As if one cue, the warbling notes of a raven's song permeated the stillness from somewhere upriver, a sprinkling of swallows soon to follow as they signaled the start of evening. Somehow the birds were the first to sense the dipping heat. The doorway began to emit a low murmur as the new rotation of guards arrived and as Yuugi turned back to the pharaoh's couch he was already stirring.
Yuugi was at his side and on his knees, head bowed out of respect and nothing more. Atem hardly seemed to notice as he turned over once, twice and then rose with a sweeping stretch. The linen covering fell to the floor and raised a cloud of dust.
The pharaoh looked up with a discerning eye and the angle the light now cast on the painted walls spoke of Ra's descent into the western fields. . "You should not have left me undisturbed for so long." He chided and Yuugi could could tell by the listless quality of his voice that it was better that way. He moved like pushing his way through fresh spring silt.
Without waiting for permission, Yuugi had moved and dropped a pair of shoes before him and as he stood, with arms held out, Yuugi was there to clasp carnelian encrusted bangles about his wrists. More than ritual, this process was like a dance where Atem lead without knowing and Yuugi knew how to keep one step ahead. By his hand, one artifact at a time, Atem awoke to wear the crown once more.
"Should I call for something to eat?" Yuugi remained focused on his work, doing his best to ignore the warmth of his tawny skin as his fingers brushed against him, or the savory shroud of myrrh that followed him like a fog.
Pulling back, Atem rubbed absently at his wrists until it felt comfortable, almost natural. "No. There will be plenty of time for that after we meet with with the convoy from Hattusa."
Finally, they exchanged a look and with it came a grin. Though Yuugi always took care to maintain a respectful distance, and though the room enveloping them was vast, the space between them was small and charged with the abundant weigh of all their sentiments that never took tangible shape..
"Did any one need me?"
And with that Yuugi frowned. "Not a soul."
Without waiting for him, Atem took the rich blue cloak the other held in his hands and slipped it over his shoulders. "Did you turn anyone away?" He fired back, quick to pick up on Yuugi's deceptive tendencies, especially when it came to his well being.
Fortunately, his attendant was more than prepared for any line of inquiry the pharaoh could prepare. "Only her majesty, the dowager queen, although she turned herself away once I mentioned you were asleep." Yuugi smirked appreciatively. Iusaaset, often in agreement about the needs of her son, had grown to be one of his greatest allies.
Atem's brow lifted, his gaze searching, inquiring. The seconds stretched out as if enough pressure could force the true story through the cracks of his rhetoric. Like the saturated shafts of light squeezing in beneath the lofted ceiling. When the light remained stagnant and pure, the pharaoh acquiesced. "That's a promise?"
Squaring his shoulders, Yuugi held up his little finger, covering his heart with his other hand. "Swallow a thousand needles if I lie." It was an odd gesture, the merging of past and present, and it never failed to elicit a soft chuckle from the pharaoh who found his many idioms mysterious and charming.
The shadows crept higher and the frantic footfalls of servants setting about their business began to echo through the halls but as Atem drew closer, Yuugi held his breath. Moments like this were fleeting and fragile and he still fumbled through how to respond. Yet, when their lips met it was like forging a rift that swallowed light and life alike and the only thing the mattered was the space that wasn't between them. For a solid second, three at best, they stood on the same ground, level and sound.
It was Yuugi that surfaced first, rolling back on his heels and Atem followed, giving his bangs an indulgent flick. The chorus of song birds swelled and Yuugi, taking it as a cue, stepped from the dias surrounding the pharaoh's couch.
Atem finally had to take notice of the work that awaited him, now illuminated in a white haze of crisp papyrus and wedged tablets and it was not hard to surmise what they contained. He snapped his fingers and as Yuugi looked back, he was already making a casual flourish towards the door.
"I can finish on my own. Asetnefret will be expecting you."
With a fluttering sigh, the steward moved to gather up one pile, with a clarity of consciousness that always accompanied the day's rebirth.